


yo se que tu quieres

by leoandsnake



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Arguing, Belligerent Dirty Talk, Belligerent Sexual Tension, M/M, Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoandsnake/pseuds/leoandsnake
Summary: “That's a part of it,” Sam agrees. He lifts his knee and rubs it against Sully’s cock in his pants. “Ha, that’s not your gun, right?”Sully’s gut clenches with pleasure. “Jesus,” he says gruffly, standing and dragging Sam to his feet. “Who raised you Drake kids, anyway?”“Nuns,” Sam says, without irony.





	

**Author's Note:**

> when i wrote that other sam/sully thing which mentioned the hypothetical of what if they'd met before sully and nate, i was like hmmm well what was their first meeting like, anyway? so, this is the result of that thought

It's terrifically hot the day Sam turns up in Mexico on his motorcycle, fresh out of prison with a fading black eye.

Sully’s got the windows thrown open in his little apartment, so all he can hear is street noise, plus he has three fans going and keeps taking cold showers. Nate’s taken to the streets to loiter in the shade and steal fruit. Sully told him to try not to come home without a bag of ice.

Two raps come at the door.

Sully hopes it's just somebody selling something door to door and that they'll give up if he doesn't answer. He really doesn't want to leave the spot he has staked out on the couch in front of all the fans.

The knocks keep coming. It can't be _los policias_ ; they've been in the city a week. Maybe Nate got caught, but he hardly ever gets nabbed for pickpocketing anymore.

Sully answers the door and there he is. A rangy kid around twenty, standing there all hard like he expects a fight.

“You Victor Sullivan?”

Sully’s hackles raise, and he fingers the gun on his hip. “Who's asking?”

“Sam Drake,” the kid says, with unearned cockiness.

“Ohh,” Sully says, relieved, and he laughs and rubs his thumb against the bridge of his nose. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Where's my brother?”

“Out stealing shit.”

“Well, I'm here to take him back,” Sam says defiantly. “Look, I -- it's nice what you've done here, taking him under your wing, but he's my kid brother and he's _my_ responsibility.”

Sully can see the resemblance, now, looking at him. Sam’s maybe a little fine-boned, a little more slender. Nate's grown up and filled out since Sully met him. He's pretty solid now.

From the bruises on the bone around his eye and the one on his collarbone, Sully can tell Sam's been beat up in the last week or so. He's sweating through his clothes; a black shirt and blue jeans.

The sweat makes his hair stick to his forehead. Sully’s voice gets caught in his throat for a second.

“Come in and let’s talk,” he says.

Sam calms down a little once Sully hands him a cold beer. He explains how crazy he's been going for the last few months, not able to check up on Nate or get a letter to him, only getting the occasional note smuggled to him on the inside. He leans sideways across the couch, looking like he’s exhausted from the heat. His shirt rides up and exposes his hip: peachy pale, not freckled or tanned like the rest of him.

“Look, kid,” Sully says. “I empathize. But I’ve got a good thing going with Nate.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“I do. Have for about a year now. He’s sharp. Really come along under my, uh, tutelage.”

Sam shoots him a sharp look. Sully does his best not to laugh. Sam is clearly in over his head; he can't help but find it endearing. He remembers being exactly this full of piss and vinegar back in his Navy days.

“He was doing fine with me.”

“Really? That why you two have been in and out of jail for the last six years?”

“Look, he doesn't need a _dad_ ,” Sam snaps. “So whatever weird fantasy you're living out here, let it go.”

This is a little too much. Sully gets to his feet.

“Listen, brat,” he says, coming over and sticking a finger in his face. “I’ve never wanted to be a _dad_ for a second in my life. But Nate is a good kid, and if I hadn't intervened and picked him up, he'd be dead right now. So bitch at me all you want, I get you feel guilty, but don't insult me for doing the right thing.”

“You'll just dump him as soon as he isn't useful to you,” Sam says, staring at the finger.

“What, like three months ago when he got the flu and I nursed him for a week? Two months ago when I bought him a bunch of textbooks so he could teach himself algebra? Two weeks ago when he almost got pinched trying to lift an artifact from the Vatican and we had to run all the way to Mexico? When?”

Sam, totally undeterred by this, jumps up and gets in his face. “None of that shit is your job, man!”

“Well, who else was gonna do it, huh?”

Sam is glaring at him, now, which has Sully flabbergasted. Who is this sexy little cub of a criminal in low-rise jeans, full of misplaced rage at everyone older than thirty?

“Why don't we ask Nathan who he wants to stay with,” Sam says.

“Uh-huh,” Sully says, rubbing at his stubbly jaw. “And what do you have to offer him right now? You got a place to stay? Money in your pocket? You got anything besides a black eye and a motorcycle?”

“Fuck off.”

“I'm seriously asking.”

“Fine, then let’s settle this some other way,” Sam says, his chest rising and falling quicker and his nostrils flaring. “Let’s take it outside.”

“You're kidding,” Sully says.

Sam pushes him hard in the chest, which really pisses Sully off. “No.”

Sully grabs him by the scruff of the neck and drags him to the door. “Fine! You want to get your ass kicked twice this week? Happy to help!”

 

/

 

As soon as they get into the dusty dirt-paved alley, Sam tries to take a run at him. Sully dodges him and twists his arm behind his back.

“Give it up,” he says. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“I don't want to hurt _you_ , old man,” Sam snaps. “Don't want you to break a fucking hip or anything.”

“It's too hot out here for this bullshit,” Sully says, and lets him go.

Sam runs at him again and manages to grapple him. They stagger backward and fall into the dirt together. Sam elbows him in the face, and Sully shoves him off and then rolls him over onto his back, pinning him.

Sam’s body language changes. It's like he instantly becomes more submissive once he's been thoroughly bested.

“Listen,” Sully says, grabbing Sam hard by the hair. Sam looks up at him with curiosity in his eyes. “See the kid as much as you like. He's your brother. But you're not taking him out from under my roof. Especially not when you don't even have a goddamn roof.”

Sam, now half-lidded and smiling, rolls his hips against Sully’s.

Sully’s cock twitches and he pauses. “You serious right now?”

“You can fuck me if you let me take Nate,” Sam says, sultry.

“Fuck no!”

“Come on,” Sam purrs, and rolls his hips again. “ _Yo se que tu quieres._ I saw how you were looking at me, before."

“Not as some kind of custody barter!”

“But you do want it?”

“Why do you sound exactly like a damn hooker all of the sudden?”

Sam snorts. “Because sometimes, when cash is especially tight, I am a damn hooker.”

“Great,” Sully says. He's still pressed to Sam’s body in the intolerable heat, although his grip on his hair has relaxed. His thigh is pressed between Sam’s legs. If he moved it just two inches, it would be pressed to his cock.

Sam is gorgeous under him, all young-bodied and fiery with righteous anger. It would be a shame not to fuck him, honestly. But Sully’s head is swimming with worried thoughts of Nate.

“I'm not hooking you,” Sam says. “I mean, you're hot. I’d fuck you for free.”

“Wow, I’m honored.”

“I'm serious. Maybe then we can have a more productive conversation about Nathan’s future.”

“You’re betting if you spread your legs for me, I'll be more sympathetic to your view of the situation?”

“That's a part of it,” Sam agrees. He lifts his knee and rubs it against Sully’s cock in his pants. “Ha, that’s not your gun, right?”

Sully’s gut clenches with pleasure. “Jesus,” he says gruffly, standing and dragging Sam to his feet. “Who raised you Drake kids, anyway?”

“Nuns,” Sam says, without irony.

 

/

 

Sully drags one of the fans into the bedroom and, after a second of hesitation, closes the window. The street noise outside (honking, hollering, distant cantina music) quiets.

Sam, who's crawled onto the bed and is taking his jeans off, chuckles. “Worried your neighbors are gonna hear?”

“You better worry your brother doesn't come home early and hear,” Sully warns, as he unbuttons his shirt. “God, what am I doing? How old are you, again?”

“I'm twenty-one, old man, don't freak out. How old are you?”

“Recently forty-one.”

“You don't look it,” Sam says, staring up at him hungrily.

In this light, the resemblance between him and Nate is more obvious. It's the freckles. Sully quickly turns the lamp off so this doesn't make him lose his hard-on.

He takes his pants off and kneels onto the bed, the springs creaking under them. It's a cheap mattress. Sam gazes up at him.

“What do you want?” he says.

Sully shrugs. “You got lube?”

“You don't want a blowjob?”

“Eh… I prefer a woman’s touch when it comes to that.”

“Huh,” Sam says, with a crooked smile. “You think I won't be gentle?”

“Considering how our introduction went, I’m not putting my dick anywhere near your teeth.”

“But you'll fuck me no problem.”

“Yeah, unless you got a second set of teeth up your ass.”

Sam laughs hard at this. Sully situates himself between his legs; Sam slips one over Sully's lower back, his eyes going dark and fuzzy. Sully exhales.

“I didn’t think you’d be handsome,” Sam says softly. “I expected some heavy with a face tattoo.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“I don’t think I’d have fucked the heavy with the face tattoo.”

“Good.”

Sam’s chest rises and falls. He really is beautiful to look at. Sully didn’t appreciate how good-looking the other twenty-year-old guys he’s fucked were, because at the time, he was twenty too. He didn’t know someday your skin would lose its dew and you’d bulk up and get stiff and achey.

But Sam is like a glowing little otter under him. Sully studies him as he rolls a condom onto himself and squeezes lube into his hand.

“I should’ve figured somethin’ like this would happen,” Sam murmurs, watching his fingers. “Prison’s been lonely.”

“You were in solitary?”

“I had one cellmate… big French guy. D’Urfe. No interest in fucking me. Vice versa.”

Sully starts to finger Sam open. Sam’s head rolls back and he clutches the sheet, eyelids fluttering.

“You know,” he moans, “I usually get my way, so maybe --”

Sully pushes a second finger into him, and Sam sucks in air through his teeth.

“You were saying?”

“I’m saying,” Sam says raspily, “that you should, ah -- start coming around to that concept now.”

“Not a chance,” Sully tells him.

“How often do you fuck guys?” Sam says, rocking on his fingers. Sully angles them deeper, making a come here motion with his fingers; Sam squeezes his eyes shut. Sully’s cock throbs. He starts rubbing at it.

“Why?” he asks, breathing heavily.

“You seem comfortable.”

“This is a situation I find comfortable, yeah.”

He gets lower, closer to Sam, pressing their bodies together. Sam sucks at his neck; Sully slaps him on the thigh.

“Don’t mark me up.”

“Sorry,” Sam says. He doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds like a little shit.

He’s a flexible little shit. Both legs cross over Sully’s lower back before Sully presses his cock into him.

Sully wraps an arm around his waist and slides his hand under him, flat palm pressing to young tan back, all bones and ropey muscle. Sam moans in his ear as he makes his way inside. His own cock is hard against Sully’s hip.

Sully starts kissing him, because he may be a cad, but he’s a nice cad. Sam sucks on his bottom lip and grabs him by the hair, yanking hard as Sully rocks into him.

“God, god,” Sam breathes. “You fucker.”

“Uh-huh,” Sully says, lips at his ear.

“When Nate gets back,” Sam says, drawing back and gazing at him as they move together on the bed, “I’m taking him, and I’m taking at least half of whatever shit you’ve got stashed around this apartment, and I’m leaving, and you can kiss my -- _ohhh_ \-- kiss my ass goodbye --”

“Sure,” Sully pants, and he sits up so he can turn Sam over, pressing him facedown to the pillows. Sam moans again, at great length, digging his fingertips into the bed. “Whatever you say, Sammy.”

“Harder,” Sam begs, muffled. “Do it like you mean it.”

Sully breathes out a little laugh. He’s just working on not blowing his load too soon; Sam is tight and really knows how to ride a cock. The muscles in him clutch at Sully desperately.

After a few minutes of this (Sully giving him a kind of dry reach-around, Sam moaning musically into the bedspread) Sam eases off him a little and says, “Let me ride you.”

Sully is all too happy to oblige, because it’s still hot as blazes and he likes the idea of just lying there. Sam maneuvers them and then he’s flat on his back, looking at the peeling yellow ceiling.

Sam inhales sharply as he settles back on Sully’s cock and bites his lip. He’s almost too lovely up there, making soft sounds in his throat, rocking those slim hips in a little circle. Sully grabs him by the thigh and digs a thumbnail into his skin while he matches his motions. Sam shudders with delight.

“You’re still not doing it right,” he says after a minute, all throaty, grinning wickedly. “Harder, harder. Make me scream, man.”

“Fine,” Sully exclaims, fully rankled at this point. Sam is a pain in the ass, he’s decided, and possibly more trouble than he’s worth, but his dick has always been a terrible judge of character.

He gets on Sam doggy-style again, and this time doesn’t hold anything back.

Sam matches the tempo of his hips perfectly. He’s a pro at this. He moans and moans, egging Sully on.

Sully comes with a groan. He pulls out and presses his palms to the bedspread, worn out. Sam makes a little sound underneath him and rolls onto his side, looking up at Sully from the corner of his eye.

Sully takes the condom off himself, ties it and tosses it in the trash. It hits with a wet noise, and the metal sings.

Sam’s eyes are all bright, his face flushed. Sully gently pushes on his shoulder so he falls onto his back against the bed.

“Want me to jerk you off?”

Sam nods without saying anything, looking relieved. Sully gets him off with gentle tugs. He’s nearly there anyway, leaking all over Sully’s hand as soon as he touches him.

 

/

 

When they finish, Sam goes in the little bathroom to clean up. Sully stands by the window, looking out at the busy street below, doing up his shirt and then his watch.

He turns to see Sam leaning in the doorway, still shirtless, his eyes narrowed. He looks preoccupied.

“Kid,” Sully says.

Sam swipes at his nose and shakes his head. “Maybe Nathan’s better off without me.”

“Hey, nobody said _that.”_

“I’m fucked up,” Sam says, looking him in the eye. He’s steely again. “I do shit like this, on impulse. I get him in trouble. I drag him around, I put him in danger.”

Sully lets out a delicate sigh and comes over to him, taking a seat on the bed. “So do I.”

“But you know what you’re doing, don’t you? You had me pegged from minute one.”

“I’ve just been in the business a long time, that’s all.”

Sam looks down at his bare feet. He has a bruise on his ankle, too.

“Who beat you up?” Sully says.

“D’you care?”

“Who?”

“I had a beef with a guy I was in with,” Sam says. “They let us both out at the same time. Overcrowding. I got jumped in an alley by him and two of his guys… I put up a good fight, considering.”

Sully puts his face in his hands, rubbing at his temples. He’s feeling his resolve weaken.

“Nate doesn’t necessarily have to live with me,” he says. “But he’s got to keep being trained by me, alright? The kind of shit he wants to do, he needs someone watching out for him.”

“Someone like _me_.”

“Someone who’s not going to wind up in prison, or dead in a goddamn motorcycle accident, or get beat to death in an alley.”

“I’m fucking fine, man,” Sam exclaims, his voice catching and seesawing in his throat. He seems embarrassed by this and busies himself with pulling his shirt back on. “I’ve taken care of myself since I was a kid. Nobody looked out for me. I didn’t have an older brother. What, you fuck me and you start in on this paternal shit?”

“Hey, I had a shitty childhood too, so don’t start.”

Sam hesitates, then comes and sits next to him.

“I just want to take care of him,” he whispers. “The one thing I’m proud of in my life, the one good thing I’ve done, it’s been making sure he didn’t give up on living after all of the shit that’s happened to us. And not, like, just being alive. Plenty of people are alive. But people like him, you, me, we _live_.”

“He’ll keep living,” Sully says, studying Sam. “I know what you mean, and he’s got a lot of life in him, that kid. Enough life for two people. He’ll be fine.”

“Is he going to forgive me this time, you think?” Sam says, looking over at him. He seems younger, his voice all hesitant and his cheeks and lips rosy from sex. Sully feels gentle toward him. “For not being here?”

“You kidding? You’re all he talks about, some days,” Sully says.

Sam digs in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and pulls one out. Sully hands him a lighter.

“Good,” Sam murmurs.


End file.
